Monday, October 24, 2011

Across the Weser to Oldenburg

The morning on the bank of the Weser and the temperature has dipped a little ... but it appears to be another fine day. The ferry operator gets everything ready, and horses and carts can together be put on to take them across. The ferryman asks to be paid before you leave, a total of 3 c.p. per animal and 7 c.p. per person. The cart the ferryman will not ask to be paid for.

The Weser is nearly a mile wide, and the Ferry is both poled and sailed across by four men, including the ferryman. It takes surprisingly little time, as the breeze is caught by the lateen sail and soon enough the ferry slides right across on the wind. The ferryman inquires as to where the party is going, and without thinking Emmanuel mentions Oldenburg. The ferryman promises to point out the way, and when the party debarks on the other side he indeed does so. The Oldenburg road, which will get the party to Engelke, must first be reached by means of another secondary passage over a half-cobblestoned by-way, like the one south of Cuxhaven except a good deal less marshy.

Mid-day approaches and the weather holds, temperatures turning pleasant. The meadow fields are filled with poppies, the trees about are supporting apples and some northern pears, and now and then is a wide field brilliant yellow with rape or white-and-green with clover, picked over by dozens of fat cattle.

Just past noon, the road meets with a good sized stream flowing eastwards towards where the Weser valley ought to be (behind you now), and you pass a road marker saying that Oldenburg is 8 miles away (you ought to be there before nightfall). A bit beyond that you find a curious thing. A man is standing in the middle of the road ahead, with his back to you, and with a piece of string between his hands. He appears to be stretching the string out the length of his arms and measuring the width of the sky above the road. He measures it at three and a half lengths of string, seems unhappy about that, and so returns to the right side of the road and does it again. You see him do it three times altogether before you come within ear-shot. He seems completely unaware of you.

He's tall, about six-foot-two, weighing perhaps 160 lbs., and wearing a tight brown jacket and breeches, but no robe or cloak. You cannot see any equipment about the man, or any weapon he might be carrying. To learn more than that you would need to get closer.

43 comments:

A few moments later, realizing Ninetoes has stopped, he reins up his horse and turns it around so he can see their conversation.

Then, assuming the man doesn't immediately attack, begin an incantation or foam at the mouth, Ahmet loses interest and looks down the road from whence they came, wondering if they're still being pursued. He'll trot past Ninetoes and the rest of the group, heading a few hundred yards down the road they came from to see if he notices any signs of a pursuer.

The man responds to Nine-toes, clearly indicating he did not know he was being observed. He tucks the string away sheepishly, then begins to stride towards the party. Hearing range is a good 120 feet, so there is plenty of time before he reaches you. He still has nothing in his hands. He waves to you as he approaches, and you can see within forty feet that his clothes are those of a gentleman, but well-worn and marginally in need of repair.

If he had a hat he would doff it; but he has no hat. Nevertheless, he approaches to within six yards, touches his head and bows slightly. "Jack Buchanan, at your service sirs. Ah, hem, pardon me for that display, I was performing a small experiment. There's a very interesting force-line that runs across the road just over there" (he points to where he was standing on the road) "- but for some reason does not quite reach those trees over there." (he points). "I'd heard that force-lines sometimes ended, but this is my first observation of it. So I was measuring the width here and was planning to venture across the meadow there and measure the width at the end. Hardly scientific, I know, but ..."; he shrugs; "How does one measure a force-line, exactly?"

(OOC: I am building a table that will punish you for your method of travelling, punish you depending upon your sleeping arrangements, punish you according to the weather and so on. Silvius will suffer a bit on account of not having a bedroll. I'm deliberately being vague here; the party will find they need to rest a day here and there if they do not want to take damage.

Jack looks at Nine-toes in surprise, then a sort of benevolent condescension. "Well, let's see; a magic user in order to cast a spell must tap into a power source of some kind, no? Obviously, it's convenient if this power source is immediate and available - force-lines proliferate the use of magic, which in turn encourages the birth of children who will grow to become magic-users. Most wizards eventually learn to draw power directly from the Earth, and are not dependent upon force-lines, but if you want to create a great deal of magic in a singularity, the sort that creates, say, a powerful artifact, you'll need to seek out a force-line that ... you realize, this is merely a hobby of mine. It's not in the way of general interest, of course."

"Oh yes," he says to Silvius. "Right from those trees to right over there, then over the horizon in that direction." Jack stops, and sniffs the air. "Say, you haven't got a bit of meat you could spare?"

"I am fascinated by that which I do not fully understand, which is most everything, I'm afraid. But then, I never lack for entertainment, good sir, whenever I find someone willing to indulge my questions."

"How is it you can see the force line if the subject is but a hobby for you? Have you some skill with magic?"

Silvius is not certain that the man is no toying with him, but noting the serious look on his face, he does not laugh or argue. He produces some bacon from his pack and hands it to Jack without another word.

(OOC: RE: Travelling Damage. I was worried that we were not being punished for something. Glad that I can put that concern to rest!)

To answer Silvius, "I have talent of a sort, sir, that I come by most honestly, if not always with the blessing of fate. I am down on my luck, and that is a fact sir. Talented and missible, that is my tale."

To Nine-toes, Jack says, "I will take at this time what I can have, and if you offer bread, I shall take bread." At Silvius's offer, he will answer, "Better, better ... perhaps bacon and bread together could be spared."

"Going from here to there, I expect," adds Jack. "I am quite content to leave here, and I'm sure there will offer accommodations no less opportunistic. Does that give me passport to travel with you, bayefendi?"

"East of the Balkans, most assuredly. I have frozen in the passes of Sikkim and warmed again in the adjacent jungles of Gorkhaland. I have dried and thirsted in the Empty Quarter and been bathed the next day in sweet oils and pools of the Hadrumaut sheikdoms. I have seen the great, breathless beasts break the surface of the White Sea, and seen the Red Sea boil. And in all those places I have known ignorance and enlightenment. I seek only to bring a few considerate words to all I can, and I seek words of kindness whenever they can be spared."

"I confess, my good sir, you are well-spoken even if you are only making all those places up, and I could feel as if I had visited those lands myself for a moment. If the Turk and Sylvius are for you, then I must welcome you to our cart (which belongs to brother Andrej in truth, but I do not think he or Emmanuel will object.)"